My Turn
by BeachDreamer
Summary: What happens when the roles are reversed? sick!Dean protective!Sam Happy Birthday to *written in dreams*!


_A/N~Just a little sick!Dean for my dear friend **written in dreams**' birthday :) So sorry it's late honey...hope you enjoy and that it makes the drive back to school a little brighter!_

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With exhaustion nipping at his heels and an unexpected agility belied by his massive size, Sam slipped into yet another generic motel room. Home sweet freakin' motel. Again. Fortunately, this place at least had a kitchenette with a small refrigerator so they wouldn't have to screw with the cooler or ice. Thank…whoever…for small favors.

Elbowing the door closed behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the too-small, lumpy mattress he had claimed as his own, knowing it was only a matter of time before he could flop diagonally across it and bid the world adieu for a few brief hours. The case of bottled beer he had balanced precariously on top of the two greasy pizza boxes started to slide and he caught it effortlessly as he plopped the "sustenance" unceremoniously on the counter. Grimacing at the fat content in his brother's choice of dinner he simultaneously chuckled at the remembered, "Dude! Bring back pizza." Dean had eagerly tossed out as Sam had left on his recon mission. Wiping the excess grease on the leg of his jeans he slid the beer into the fridge before making his way to the door of the bathroom and rapping twice sharply with his knuckles.

"Dude? Dinner. Against my better judgment I got you meat lovers with extra onions." Sam shook his head at the toppings. At least _his_ pizza had actual vegetables with actual nutritional value.

The distinct lack of answer from the obviously occupied bathroom was the first red flag.

Concerned, his hand already on the doorknob, Sam tried again. "Dean? You alright man?" This time his query received a response in the form of a low, keening moan and his exhaustion was immediately devoured by adrenaline. "Crap. Alright dude, cover up if you need to. I'm coming in."

The sharp, acrid smell of bile hit him as soon as he opened the door and activated his gag reflex. Swallowing back the unexpected rush, he stepped into the darkened room and found Dean, half sitting-half lying on the floor: face ashen, t-shirt soaked with sweat, head leaning back against the grimy tub and one hand resting on the seat of the toilet. Bleary green eyes cracked open before narrowing against the light.

"Sammy?" He mumbled, dazed expression looking as relieved as was possible in his current position. "You're back."

"I was only gone a few hours. Damn, man. What happened to you and why didn't you call?" Instinctively reaching a hand to his brother's clammy brow, Sam automatically slid into the role of caretaker that he and Dean had so often shared and traded through the years.

Dean moaned softly, heat radiating from him as he struggled to find the words and then get them out, "Came out of nowhere. Was on the laptop…getting a head start on the research. Then m'head started hurting. Though'd was a migraine but wasn't behind my eyes. Pain was throbbing…base of my skull…then the stomach cramps" he gagged a bit before taking a deep breath and continuing, "…been puking forever…nothing now but bile," just the taste of the word on his tongue had his throat convulsing, "…would've called…forgot my phone. Sorry." The last word slipped out on sigh as his eyes slid closed again.

The younger Winchester winced in sympathy, his heart contracting over the fact that Dean had been suffering alone for God only knew how long. His brother was tough. He'd been shot and stabbed…broken countless bones…taken a multitude of beatings from things both natural and supernatural…hell, he'd even given himself stitches a time or two; in spite of all of that, nothing got to Dean quite like the stomach flu. He hated to vomit and had always done everything in his power to keep it from happening but the virus always won.

Sam cringed as a fresh realization struck him. His knowledge of all things Dean included a very clear picture of how much his brother despised being sick and therefore dependent on someone else for care. Most people—_normal people_, Sam thought with chagrin—took pleasure from being coddled when they were ill. Not Dean. For him it was torture. It took him out of his role…his comfort zone. Being the protector, the "big brother," was more than what Dean was; it was _who_ Dean was and anytime Sam had to step into his brother's shoes and take on the role of caregiver, Dean got…cranky.

_Ha_, Sam snorted to himself. _Understatement_.

Face impassive, he nonchalantly grabbed a threadbare washcloth off the towel rack and wet it under the tap before sidling up beside his brother and laying the cool cloth along the back of his heated neck. His alarm ratcheted up a notch when Dean didn't try to fight him, only moaned lightly and rolled his shoulders away from the offending piece of fabric.

"Hey, hey. It's ok man. Just breathe and relax. You're ok." Sam reassured; his words soothing and tone measured. "I've got it under control. Will you be ok for a second if I go back into the room?"

Dean's eyelids fluttered and he mumbled out an answer in the affirmative before sighing deeply and letting his head fall back against the yellowed shower curtain.

Suppressing a shudder over the thought of what that curtain had seen, Sam pushed himself up and, careful not to disturb the uneasy peace his brother's stomach seemed to have found, quietly returned to the bedroom. Sniffing the air, he realized that the piquant scent of pizza would probably kick Dean's nausea into overdrive and opened the window to air it out. With a longing glance at what should have been his dinner, he sighed and slid both pizza boxes into the midget refrigerator under the case of beer, grabbing a cold bottle of water from the shelf before knocking the door closed with his hip. Turning to the beds he pulled Dean's sheets back, turned off all but the lamp on the table where his laptop waited, and gathered the small trashcan plus a couple of plastic grocery bags that he was now _oh_ _so glad_ he hadn't tossed.

He sniffed again. Satisfied that the spicy, sweet aroma of tomato and sausage had faded, he returned to the darkened bathroom and laid a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder. Not expecting the contact, Dean shuddered slightly and cracked open his eyes. "Sammy?"

"Hey Dean, I brought you some water." Reading the uncertainty on his brother's face, he amended, "You don't have to drink it if you don't think your stomach can handle it yet. Just swish and spit, ok?" At the relieved nod, he twisted the top off of the bottle and handed it over. "You think you might want to go get in bed?" Sharp hazel eyes narrowed on Dean's grimace as panic stricken green flashed from him to the toilet. "I've got it all ready for you. The trashcan's there waiting and I grabbed some plastic bags too so you won't have to try to get back in here. You'll be more comfortable dude, trust me."

"Guess so." Dean whispered hoarsely, throat raw from the gallons of acid that had escaped through the narrow passageway. A pained expression shadowed his face along with the pink tinge of embarassment. "Uh…think you could help me up? M'not feeling too steady."

"Sure. I've got you." As Sam leaned down to hoist him up, he was relieved to see that Dean had managed to change into sweatpants before the deluge hit. This…_situation_ was bad enough. He knew that his brother would have been mortified at the indignity had he needed help getting undressed on top of everything else. "Ready?" Feeling the weak nod against his shoulder, he half carried his brother out and settled him gently onto the bed closest to the bathroom. Dean sighed as his body sank into the mattress, the softness a welcome reprieve from the cold, sharp angles of the tiny bathroom. Straightening, Sam's chest clenched at the sight before him. Freckles that generally faded into the golden tones of Dean's skin stood out in stark relief across his pale face and dark shadows bruised the hollows beneath his eyes. "Get some sleep, ok?"

Dean's eyelids fluttered. "Mmmm. Hey Sammy?…thanks," he muttered softly as he drifted away, "Owe you one."

Heart twisting painfully, Sam shook his head. "Nah, man," he murmured to his now sleeping brother before settling onto his own bed to keep watch. "It was my turn to take care of you."

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_Shameless solicitation time...read and review pretty please? ;)_


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